Um...I Think I Just 'Outed' Myself

For the most part, I've kept my infertility issues between me, my husband, and a few close friends / family members. I have not talked about it publicly, and I certainly haven't ever posted anything on something as communal as Facebook. Until today. A "friend of a friend" posted this message on her status: can i get an 'amen' for all those who think pregnancy blows?!. (I'll even overlook the sad grammar and juvenile use of profanity.) Then, my sister, of all people, replies with the first wholehearted: Amen!!!. My sister! This is the sister that I get to see over the holidays, the one that I'm supposed to fawn over, congratulate, and smile with. And she thinks that pregnancy "blows"? You know what blows? INFERTILITY!

I have never begrudged those who are pregnant their joy and happiness. Posts that celebrate motherhood don't bother me - heck, if it weren't for motherhood, I wouldn't be here. I have been envious, sure, but have never said that they don't have the right to be excited. When they take that joy for granted, though, I take umbrage. I know that her comment was not meant for me, but I had to wonder how many of this woman's friends are struggling with infertility, and how much that comment may have hurt them. And the fact that my own sister, who should know at least a little bit about the pain of infertility and how lucky she truly is, was the first person to respond…it made me so sad and angry. I thought for a long time about how I wanted to respond. I came up with this:

There is nothing worse than wanting something with your whole heart and then having to listen to those who have it, complain about it. If they only knew…

I thought it was pretty decent. It conveyed some of my emotions: disappointment, sadness, vulnerability, longing…and yet did not accuse anyone or point fingers directly.

I got a wealth of responses, not only from my friends, but from other women I'm not particularly close to who have been effected by infertility. They offered the one thing that they knew could help - virtual hugs. They know that there are no words that can ease this brand of hurt.

It feels good to be out - people should be reminded every once in a while of how damn lucky they are. And they also need to know that there are appropriate channels for their whining - and a public forum like Facebook is not necessarily the place. (It would be like me whining that "having a loving husband is soooo time consuming" to all of my single friends. Cry me a river, they'd say.

It is good to know, though, that I have the support that I do. This week, I'm going to need it. Every finger should be crossed...and toes, too.

(The photo is of sweet pea blossoms, which are some of the sweetest-smelling flowers in all the world. You should plant some.)

I Dreamed a Dream

"Though dreams can be deceiving, like faces are to hearts, they serve for sweet relieving when fantasy and reality lie too far apart…"

-Fiona Apple

I very rarely have dreams about the things I want. Most often, my dreams are about odd, surreal, fictitious places and strange situations. My dreams are, frankly, pretty weird. My conscious thoughts don't ever make it into my dreams, where you're supposed to be able to escape to an Eden of your own making. So when I awoke this morning clutching my belly and thinking that moments ago I felt the heartbeat of a baby, I knew that babymaking had been pushed so far into my subconscious that I was actually dreaming about it. Maybe it's because I'm completely immersed in school (oh, lesson plans, how I love to hate you), or maybe it's because we're taking some time off, but babymaking hasn't exactly been in the forefront of my mind this month. Yes, we're still trying the natural method (BBT, herbs, etc.), but I haven't had an RE appointment in over a month now. It's been nice.

But it's made me think: There ought to be about three different words for "dream".

1. There are the dreams that you really have when you sleep. They are strange an often incomprehensible, and very rarely leave you with the impression that you just lived a moment in your perfect world.


2. There are "dreams" that you have for your life. These should more aptly be called aspirations or goals.


3. There are the hypothetical dreams that you have about things that you long for but know you can't have. It's like when I say that Bear Grylls is dreamy, or I dream of being dropped of in Tahiti with Bear Grylls. (What? He's been on my Facebook feed a lot lately; I can't help it.) These are not the things you ever really dream about when you sleep…unfortunately.
   
   Nevertheless, I have to say that it was nice to experience the joy of pregnancy for a fleeting moment...even if it was all in my mind.

Give, Give, Give.

I was sitting in a meeting today and my union rep reminded all of us that we should give up a sick day for the "sick day bank". This way, we all pool sick days and if anyone needs to be gone for some reason, they can use those days without having to take unpaid days off. The example that my union leader gave, of course, was unplanned pregnancy leave. Since I am a giving kind of girl, I gave up my days so that someone in my district can enjoy leisurely days with their new baby on extended maternity leave. Later that day, I also gave money to a bake sale so that someone else's kids can play softball in new uniforms. Before that, I bought 20 extra notebooks for my class because at least that many will have a hard time affording basic school supplies. Before that I made a donation toward a new baby stroller for an unmarried co-worker who just happened to knock up his girlfriend of eight months. Super.

When is it my turn? I feel like I am making a fair contribution to the children of the world…so when do I get one of my own? Why am I paying out of pocket to help raise other people's kids when I can't even conceive one? Is anyone raising money for my dogs to get new adorable collars? Does my workplace ever pool their money to buy a new dog bed when I decide to get another puppy? No and no.

I am comforted, however, by the fact that all this goodwill is sure to come back to me. 'Cause when the time comes for me to take maternity leave, I'm robbing that sick leave bank blind.

Sometimes We Do Things So That People Don't Know that We Don't Want to Do Them

"I know why you denied my sister. When I was younger... you used to hold my arm when I walked. Then suddenly you stopped. One day, I even tripped in your presence and nearly fell. I was faking, of course, but still you did not hold me. Sometimes we don't do things we want to do so that others won't know we want to do them."
-Ivy Walker, "The Village"

I love this quote from 'The Village'. I think that the opposite is also true - sometimes we do things just to cover up the fact that we don't want to do them. Here's a good example:

My sister is pregnant. I am pissed. The grandparents are ecstatic. I am bitter. And so the paradoxical emotions dance around my sister's delightful news. (I knew it was coming.) I wasn't able to make it to my sister's first baby shower (dude, it was the last week of school - you can't miss that, even if you're dying), so I know that I need to start saving money for the second one. When you're the infertile older sister, you know that everyone else knows that you're disappointed. But, to keep up appearances, you have to continue to smile, coo, and complement. Last time my sister had a baby, I designed the announcements. I love doing things like that, and I wanted everyone to know that I was fine with her having a baby and me only having dogs. I can tell you, though, that the last thing in the world I'd like to be doing right now is designing an announcement for someone else. I should be doing it for myself. That should be my name on the paper, my baby's face in the picture. But it's not. This time, I'm going to have to up the ante. It's time to whip out the sewing machine and hand make some adorable baby goodies. Put extra effort into it. Make sure everyone knows that you're well-adjusted. Don't let on that you're dying inside. Suppress the longing in your heart that won't let you go a day without wondering what your future holds. Find the strength to hold on to hope, even while you're holding evidence in your arms that you are different.

"Can You Stand on Your Head?"

You know the feeling you get when you read a book or watch a movie and a certain passage just hits you right in the cerebrum? I just finished watching an adorable movie called "Phoebe in Wonderland", which is about a little girl who immerses herself in Alice's Looking Glass World. When her school's drama teacher decides to put on a production of "Alice in Wonderland", Phoebe yearns to play the lead role. Her best friend, Jamie, gives her a bit of advice to help her in her pursuit:

Jamie: When I wanted my baking kit, I prayed to God for a whole month to get it.

Phoebe: Is that what you have to do?

Jamie: Well, if you want something a lot, you have to pray. Or do something you hate, and God will see you deserve it.

Phoebe: I don't believe in God.

Jamie: Me neither. But I did get the baking kit.

Phoebe: So you have to pray?

Jamie: Or do something you hate.

Phoebe: Like what?

Jamie: I dunno, P.E.?

Phoebe eventually gets the part, but not before she commits herself to all kinds of superstitious routines. It made me think about all the superstitious behaviors that we, as infertiles, subject ourselves to. Personally, I never run or exercise for at least two days after an IUI. (My doctor says there's no medical reason why that would matter.) I also don't have intercourse for about a week after my O-day, just in case the jostling would hinder my chances. (Ridiculous, I know.) I eat lots of pineapple, have tried various herbal suplements, and I even have tried headstands. (Now I'm hearing the Cheshire Cat ask, "Can you stand on your head?") Sigh. Maybe next I'll try doing something I hate. I guess it is my turn to clean the bathroom.

I May Not Be a Good Procreator...

…but I'm a pretty dang good aunt, sister, and daughter. Recently, I had the opportunity (re: year of scrimping and saving) to visit my sister, brother-in-law, and their 18-month old daughter in Germany. It was a wonderful trip and, of course, I took the opportunity to shoot some adorable pictures of my niece. We did family pictures, individual pictures, and vast amounts of pictures of the baby. I even took a video of her singing (or trying to sing) the ABC's. It's pretty darn cute.

So now, I have a bunch of pictures of the little darling, and I think to myself: "You know who would really love these? The grandparents!" So I create a CD cover, select the very best of the photos, burn them to a disk, and pop them in the mail. I send one to my sister, one to our parents, and one to the other set of grandparents. Gratis. Because I know it will bring them joy. At one point, I realize that I would rather be sending them all pictures of my own daughter. I should be packaging up a CD of a baby who looks like me, loves her Grandpa, and is learning to play in the garden next to her Daddy. But, alas, that is not to be. So, even if I can't give them the good news they've been waiting for from me…I can at least herald the coming of my niece's two front teeth. It's better than nothing.

Nature is the Meanest Boss EVER!

Think about this: If living is your job, then Nature is your boss. And if Nature is my boss, it is the meanest boss that I have ever had. Here are the reasons why:

1. Nature can terminate your employment at any time, regardless of experience.


2. Nature can change your schedule at a moment's notice, without first consulting or apprising your of the reason.


3. Nature is erratic and completely unpredictable. It's bright and cheery one day, and stormy and moody the next.


4. Nature displays favoritism. It gives bonuses to some people, and not to others. (And they're not even performance-based!)


5. Nature micro-manages. It has to control every little thing in the universe, but doesn't seem to attend to the big-picture problems. (Can we stop with the pandemics already?)


6. Nature completely shoots down your ideas and plans without so much as a logical reason why.


7. Nature can withhold your pay indefinitely, and you have to go right on working.

Sometimes, I just want to quit and start my own business.

(This photo is one that my husband took of a recent fire that decimated hundreds of acres in our area this year. At least Nature is universally mean.)

Cover Me, I'm Going In...

Wedding season is winding down, and I'm pretty proud of myself. Not only have I managed to get through about a dozen weddings without grabbing the bride, shaking her, and yelling, "start trying now, you poor, naive soul!", but I also took some pretty good pictures. I held it together through most of the father-daughter dances while thinking of how proud my own father would be if I produced a bouncing baby girl (Dad loves babies). I even managed to smile winningly while one grandmother after another barraged me with questions about my own body clock. Yes, I am married. No, I don't have kids. Cool it, Grandma!

But today is going to be different. Today, the bride is a good friend. This means that there will be, you guessed it, other acquaintances at the wedding. Acquaintances who know that we've been married for two years now. Acquaintances who remember me joking that I'd go away to grad school and come home with a Masters in Mommyhood. Acquaintances who will, no doubt, ask what the problem is.

These are the days I wish there was a rent-a-baby service. I could go to the wedding with my fake baby in tow, show her off, and look like any other normal couple. "She has your eyes," they'd say. "Suckers…" I'd whisper. Or maybe I could rent a set of emotional armor, so that when people asked hurtful questions, my Infertility Shield would deflect them from my ears. If only. I guess I'll just go armed with a smile and a joke about how teaching 120 rugrats is enough "kid" for me right now. Keep your attention on the bride, people.

(Oh, by the way I'm Not a Mom, But I'm Awesome - that photo is mine. It's pretty.)

Stubborn? Optimistic? Complacent? Tired? Why AM I Giving Up On Treatment?

Much to my mother's chagrin, we're taking a break from treatment. Firstly, it's the dawn of a new school year, and I simply cannot handle tri-weekly trips to my RE's office (1.5 hours away). Secondly, we need some time to refill the infertility coffers, if you will. The trip to Europe was very necessary, but also very expensive. (Let's not even talk about how many people said we shouldn't go because we should be saving for IVF.) As I prepare for two full months of doing essentially nothing, I have to wonder: What's my deal?

I've narrowed my mental roadblock down to four fantastic adjectives: stubborn, optimistic, complacent, and tired. I might just be being stubborn: I truly believe that I should not have to go through all this crud just to have a child, and I'm sticking to my guns. Stubborn. Or, I could be exercising my relentless optimism: I don't really think I'll need scientific intervention after all. Optimistic. It could be that I just don't care anymore: I want a child, but as Grandma says, "If it happens, it happens." Complacent. It's also possible that the mental stress of trying to conceive a child for two years (I hope I'm someday as strong as all of the other blogging women who have been at this for longer than I) has left me tired: I simply don't want to do it anymore.

Anyhow, I'm not sure which of those emotions has been the driving force behind my decision to halt all IF treatments at the moment, but I do know this: I'm still on the road to becoming a mom. I've just taken a little detour.

I Never Knew That About Parenting...Thanks for the Enlightenment

I love my art. As a part-time portrait photographer, I sometimes get to take photos of weddings, parties, and families. Despite how I may feel about the people I photograph (hello, can you say Bridezilla?), I always revel in the beautiful images that my husband and I are able to take. I pat myself on the back when I take a photo that I know will make someone happy. And because I love taking photos so much, I sometimes even put aside my own personal issues in order to take baby photos. Today we took photos for an adorable little girl who just turned one. I had an awesome time playing with her and getting her to smile. Slowly, our little model's mood went south, but not before we got a lot of unbelievable cute shots. And I had truly enjoyed myself until…

…grandma turns to us and asks (you know what's coming), "Do you two have any kids?" I'm about to answer with a delightful anecdote about my darling dogs, but she interjects with, "You probably don't want any after dealing with this temper tantrum."

Wow. You're right. My husband and I obviously thought that parenthood was all rose gardens and applesauce. As a teacher of 120 little darlings a year, you'd have thought I'd know about the inevitable mood swings of a child (which are, in fact, not so different at 11 than at 2), but no, I've remained oblivious to these dangers of child-rearing. You're right, lady, the last 10 minutes with your gorgeous (but slightly cranky) granddaughter, who has her mother's eyes and your chestnut hair, has turned me entirely against parenthood.

I think I'll go out and get myself another dog.

Back to the Blogosphere

Wow. You spend two weeks away from the internet and things just keep moving right along without you! (It's kinda like High School, when you're there you think it all revolves around you, and then you realize that everyone lives and breathes without your presence.) I have been trying to read everyone's posts, but I do need to do one important bit of housekeeping: Thank my bud Ana (Getting Help Making a Baby) for my first-ever Blog award! I'm not exactly sure how to go about this, but I'll give it a shot.

Blogs that I love to love:

1. Learning to Swim in a Sea of Baby Bumps
2. I Heart Colorado (Because not everything is about being infertile.)
3. Mojo Working
4. Trying Not to Scream
5. The Elusive Embryo (There are happy endings after all.)
6. 999 Reasons to Laugh at Infertility
7. a + b, waiting for c

Thank you, Ana, for passing this award to me. I will try to pass it along to others as well (I only have seven now, but I will keep working.) - big ups to all bloggers who pour their heart and soul into the world wide web. It's an emotional paella out there.

Trip Update

Hello all!

This is your intrepid infertile explorer writing to you from the far corners of civilized Western Europe. We are currently in a lovely little hamlet called Harrogate, where there seem to be an inordinate number of both retirees (pensioners) and...you guessed it - babies. Good god, is there something in the water here? Incidentally, there is a "miracle" well of sulpher water in town that I attempted to drink, just in case. If the cure-all for infertility is in water that smells like rotten eggs and tases like the inside-out bowels of roadkill, then count me out. Nothing that foul could be the cure for anything, except a relationship that you want out of. (One sniff of that on your breath would send any man running.)

Hubby and I have had a really nice time rambling around the Yorkshire countryside. So much, in fact, that I'm almost able to turn a blind eye to all of the adorable prams being pushed about. Almost... But don't worry, my friends, as it turns out there are a plethora of baby-challenged women here in the UK, too. It seems to be as much an issue here as it is there. I even read an article in a magazine (much like a younger version of Redbook) about a new book by a guru of infertility about a special diet for IVF. (Which looks like I may need to pick up, as plan A did not work out, sadly. More on that later, still drying my tears at the moment.)

Must go - early to sleep and rise tomorrow. Jetting of to London for a half-day, then Germany on Wednesday. Hope you all are weathering your collective joys and sorrows well, I will be back to read and comment in just one short week.

All the best,

Ashlee

Let's Call This...Plan X

For the past two years, I've been joking about "adopting" a baby from another country. (You make it all look so easy, Angelina.) The quotation marks, as you can probably imagine, are my way of saying that I'm just going to downright take one and avoid all the messy paperwork and financial entrapments of a legal adoption. (This is where I hope that Big Brother is not, in fact, reading my blog.) Well, the husband and I are leaving for England and Germany on our big trip tomorrow, and the question remains: which country of origin do I want my little progeny to hail from? I figure it probably needs to be a poorer country, so England is definitively out. Switzerland is so small that they'd probably miss a fraction of their population if I took a child out of the country, so that's out, too. Poland? The Czech Republic? Oooh, how about an Austrian baby? He/she could grow up to be the next governor of California, for all I know. With the good German surname that I have now, I may just want to fritter away a little Germany baby - less suspicious. If only Croatia were closer…

Of course, if this IUI works out, I may not need to steal a baby after all. For the sake of my husband, personal freedom, and the good reputations of my family and friends: let's all hope that plan A works out and I won't be held up in an international prison for the better part of decade. Conjugal visits would NOT be the ideal way to continue TTC. Wish me luck, y'all!

I've Got a Bun in the Oven. No, Really, I'm Baking Something.

I may not be able to pull a Catherine Heigl (a-la 'Knocked Up') and produce a baby on a whim, but I'll tell you what I can do: make a killer meal. That's right - because I don't have kids running around, I can achieve culinary masterpieces like from-scratch Cinnamon Raisin bread and delicious Asparagus Parmesan Risotto. Since I don’t have to work around naptimes and coloring contests, I can have the house smelling like rising dough and baking bread by the time my husband gets home from work. (Don't worry, the irony of trading one domestic trap for another is not escaping me altogether.) I can ride my bike to the store to pick up much-needed accoutrement, like saffron and chipotle chili powder, AND I don't have to worry about stocking up on diapers or formula while I'm there! I can make things that most kids would take a "no thank you bite" of and go running for the pizza rolls. Why can I do all this? Because I'm not a mom, but I'm awesome. Be awesome today, my friends. (Even if you cheated and used a bread-maker. Shhhhh.)

That Joni Mitchell Was Full of It

"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone…"

Ah, Joni, if only you ever struggled with infertility instead of drugs, you'd know that it is perfectly possible to mourn something that you've never even laid eyes on, let alone held in your arms. The lyrics really should say, "don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till everyone else you know has it and you don't, thereby making you feel like a freak of nature who is never going to fulfill her lifelong dream of investing your hard-earned wisdom of the world to a younger version of yourself (big breath)." It's not as poetic, I'll give you, but it's a far sight more truthful than the original. Can you love someone you've never met? Can you desire something that doesn't exist? Can you mourn the loss of a person who only has existed in your dreams? I think we all know the answer to that - a resounding "yes". And you better believe that I'd pave Paradise if it meant I get to be a Mommy. I don't care how many coconut trees I have to bulldoze.

Forget Catholic Guilt...Infertility Guilt is Much Worse!

After thousands of my hard-earned dollars have gone to helping science to find the "cure" for my infertility, I find myself looking for ways that I can help, too. My husband gives up all alcohol (yes, even ale) and caffeine for the weeks leading up to our IUI appointments. I gave up running and caffeine (I miss you, Coke) permanently.

That's not to say that I don't relapse now and then. Today, I had a delicious piece of dark chocolate. I know it's laden with caffeine, which is not necessarily a fertility aid, but I don't care! I wanted it so badly and it called for me from its hiding place up on the top shelf. Don't get me wrong, I know in my mind that this tiny piece of cocoa goodness is not going to be the reason for my IUI not working. Nevertheless, since I have spent so much time training myself to let go of these indulgences, when I give in - I FEEL guilty! "You idiot," I tell myself, "you can't even give up a few non-nutritional snacks and beverages so that you can finally force your body into being SO healthy that it absolutely must become pregnant. For shame, woman, for shame." The guilt alone is enough to put me off chocolate for another week. Or at least a day. Or until my husband has his nightly bowl of ice cream. I'm no match for that.

Infertility Sucks, But Hiking Is FUN!

You know what hurts the most about not having kids? It's thinking that everyone else is part of a very cool club called "Motherhood", and you can't do half of what they do because you don't have the golden ticket - a kid. Well, you know what? There's a new club in town - it's called the "I get all my sleep and can go anywhere on a whim because I don't have to find a sitter" Club. That's right - only women without kids can join. And you know what we're going to do? Whatever the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks we want to! Because that's what you get to do when you don't have the financial and time restrictions that mommies do. I can pick up at the drop of a hat (as long as it's during summer or a break from school) and travel the world. I can run off to Seattle or Miami or San Diego as often as my pocketbook will allow. ( As long as I don't have an IUI scheduled that week, that is.)

I think it's time to stop dwelling on what we can't do, and start focusing on what we can do. I for one am tired of seeing all those pictures on Facebook that feature women doing things that I simply can't - running stroller races or attending Mommy-and-Me classes with their bundles of joy. There are so many things that I can do that they can't, and I need to start focusing on those things. I'm going to start a club, dammit. We're not just going to blog about our feelings and cry on each other's shoulders (though if the need arisis, that will be a scheduled activity) - we're going to DO things, see places, and celebrate the fact that we are young, healthy, vibrant individuals who have a lot to see in this wide world. (Besides, all this traveling and experiencing will just make us better moms in the long run.) It's going to start this week, and it's not going to stop. If nature won't give us what we want, we'll take from it what we will.

What to Expect When You're Not Expecting Much

Gulp. Here goes. We're going in for IUI #3. After whining about completing a procedure too early (thanks to bad weekend timing), we're doing it on CD 15. Is that too late? Did I already ovulate? Have those tiny twinges in my lower abdomen been good signs or bad signs? So many questions…no answers, just hope.

There doesn't seem to be any reason why I haven't fallen pregnant naturally. There's also no identifiable reason why the previous IUI's haven't worked. So, I don't really see any reason why this one should, either. It's not that I've lost hope - it's still perching patiently in my soul like Emily Dickinson said it would - but I have certainly set my expectations lower this time. I expect this not to work. I expect to endure the 2WW as I normally do. I expect not to feel swollen, get morning sickness, or see spotting. I expect to tell my parents that the third time was not, contrary to popular belief, a charm. I certainly do not expect to see two blue lines on a white stick on day 30. What do I expect? To keep my head up, take the next step, and continue on my journey to motherhood.

At the very least, I get to have the day of with my hubby. And Panera bread and soup. It's that good. Seriously.

There's Something About Air and Sky...

"I was crushed; I went into the back yard underneath the sky and fought it out with myself. Somehow air and sky help me to control myself; I guess they bring to me the fact that after all in the big scheme I don't count much. Anyway, Nature comforts me and helps me to say, like Lincoln, 'This, too, shall pass away.'"
-Anne Ellis, Plain Anne Ellis: More About the Life of an Ordinary Woman

Since I've all but given up on running (once a fellow pregnancy-challenged friend suggests ditching something in order to beat the odds, I pretty much do it, whatever it is), I've taken up hill climbing. I know, I know, but I walk! I figure it's the jarring of feet hitting pavement that is the culprit, not the heart rate… I like to climb a hill near my house, which offers a view of the entire town. It's an amazing sight, and makes me feel very small. Sometimes I think we need that - to feel like the minute and un-integral part of life that we are. Our problems are very seldom unique, and even more seldom as dire as we like to think they are. Anne Ellis, my new hero, summed up my feelings pretty well in a passage from her second book: Plain Anne Ellis. This is a woman who lived in the San Luis Valley at the turn of the century with five kids and $.40 to live on a day. No husband. No job. No problem. I highly recommend reading this book if you feel like life is the smallest bit difficult.

Go outside, take in the air, the sights, and the endless opportunity that life affords. Even if the problem isn't neatly solved or dismissed, it will pass. You will find a way, forge a new path, and live to the fullest.(Though I'm pretty sure that Mr. Lincoln NEVER had to deal with infertility, so that sort of nullifies his stance on time healing wounds.)

My Husband is Smarter Than Your Husband

Well, at least my husband would get an A+ on a female anatomy and reproduction quiz. You know you're trying to conceive (TTC) when your better half knows more about 'girl parts' than most women do. My husband no longer makes jokes about "that time of the month", but rather notes that, "because [my] Basal Body Temperature stayed up for over two weeks, that's a good sign that the first doctor was wrong about a Luteal Phase Disorder." Dang. Home boy knows his stuff. He reminds me to take certain pills, knows what they're for, and even asks me about the finer points of ovulation. Infertility make take away your physical ability to have kids, but if knowledge is power, my husband is a Reproductive Superhero. You go, boy.